


Sticks and Stones

by 0Rocky41_7



Series: I Love Bad News: Amondi Shepard [5]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Gen, Minor Thane Krios/Shepard, Renegade Shepard (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28491138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0Rocky41_7/pseuds/0Rocky41_7
Summary: Shepard did not want to spend shore leave bailing Thane out of a C-sec holding cell, but here she is.
Relationships: Thane Krios/Female Shepard, Thane Krios/Shepard
Series: I Love Bad News: Amondi Shepard [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099259
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Sticks and Stones

“What happened?” Shepard’s voice was collected, but Thane had heard her speak that way before unleashing hellfire on some unsuspecting nitwit, so he was not overly reassured.

A lengthy pause elapsed before his reply.

“It was nothing, commander. A simple argument; I should not have gotten involved. I apologize.”

“This is _not_ the kind of attention Cerberus needs.” Agent Lawson’s fingers drummed rhythmically on the tabletop, the dull metallic clang filling up the boxy room. “The Illusive Man does not tolerate this kind of behavior.” Thane did not take his eyes off Shepard. He had been content to sort the mess out himself, but once C-sec had gotten in touch with Lawson, she had hauled Shepard away from whatever work the commander had been spending her shore leave on, and they both showed up at the office, neither looking pleased.

“C-sec is up my ass about this,” Shepard sad, leaning back in her seat, arms folded. “My crew, brawling in the Presidium? And it’s not like you, Thane.”

The assassin lowered his head in supplication. His dark eyes flicked up to the turian C-sec officer standing behind Shepard and Miranda. Shepard exhaled a sigh and turned to present company.

“Can you give us a minute?” The C-sec officer stiffened, but didn’t immediately object.

“Shepard.” Miranda’s voice was rife with warning. The commander’s hard stare did not relent. “This is not an image Cerberus can present, of our people out of control, engaging in fisticuffs like common thugs.” Agent Lawson didn’t mention anything about his not being human, but the brand on her uniform breathed the insinuation into her words.

“Are you suggesting I’m not capable of disciplining my own crew?” Now Shepard turned to face Miranda, and Thane might’ve been relieved to have the intensity of her stare off of him, if they had not been arguing about him. “Because if you are, that’s a whole other fight we’re about to get into.”

(Was it less, Thane wondered, about Miranda’s perception of Shepard’s disciplinary habits, and more that she had caught word that Thane and Shepard were… _close_?)

Agent Lawson was no spring pansy, but there weren’t many who could stand firm in the face of Shepard’s glare even before Cerberus had rendered her red-eyed and carved up with luminescent scars. Lawson backed down.

“It’s just a reminder,” she said, rising to her feet. “No need to take offense.” She and the turian reluctantly quitted the interrogation room, and Shepard waited until the door had clicked shut behind them.

“Let’s have the audio on those cameras off,” she added, raising her voice. Then, as if they had all day to sit and relax and share a fruity drink over why Thane had been arrested, she turned to him. “So. Today you decided to spend shore leave throwing hands with some rich, bored humans on the Presidium.” Shepard tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and let out a long, low breath. “What the fuck, Krios.” It didn’t come out sounding like a question. “What in the good goddamn hell were you thinking? You don’t get into _fights_.”

He shifted, the energy cuffs holding his wrists close to the table, where they were leashed, keeping his eyes off Shepard’s. Sitting it out in a C-sec holding cell would have been preferrable to this.

“You know how many problems I have going on right now?” she went on when he said nothing, her tone more tired and less combative than he had expected. That unsettled him in a way he would have needed far more time to analyze. “Tell me why _now_ you’ve decided to add to those by making me come _bail you out of jail_.” 

Thane’s shoulders hunched, and the flush that seared his flesh seemed to burn up every inch of him, scorching his throat until he would have to force the words out.

_Do you know how many problems I have?_ Shepard was right: the weight of the collector threat hanging off her shoulders, and he had added to her problems like some hothead youth; like the impulsive, headstrong, prideful young man he had once been.

Was it that some part of him had thought he could _please_ Shepard with this story? Had he forgotten about the real, adult consequences of such things? And Shepard was no flushed maiden, to be wooed by the swinging fists of a foolhardy beau—impressing her took quite a bit more.

“I’m sorry, Shepard,” he said, and his voice came out a raspy whisper, to his irritation. He tried to clear his throat to speak again, but that dissolved into a coughing jag he had to master before he could address her. “It was…foolish of me. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m gonna need more of an answer than that, Thane.” Shepard straightened up off the back of the metal chair, bringing her elbows to rest on the table. “ _Why_? Those two men are in medical right now. I know you could have killed them if you wanted to. But you didn’t. So what were you doing? Why beat them down, but not kill them? I don’t suppose they took a swing at you first.” The pressure in her voice was gentler than before: coaxing, rather than outright demanding.

“They…spoke in a way I didn’t care for.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew how inadequate they were. But he had to say _something_.

Maybe that was it: maybe he was ashamed because in the end, he’d done it for himself. Because _he_ couldn’t stand to listen to them; because _he_ needed to teach them a lesson, to bloody their knuckles for what they’d said. Maybe it didn’t matter what Shepard would think at all.

Another sigh, and Shepard shifted her shoulders. Thane thought of the scarring that cut jaggedly down her back: the simple lines of Cerberus’ scalpels and knives, and the glowing trenches of their additions, pieces her back together like some deep trench-dwelling horror (Vakarian and Tali’zorah had told him about it, in hushed, murmuring voices: how Shepard had suffocated in empty space, and two years later, shown up anew as Cerberus’ pet project). Shepard guarded her exhaustion as jealously as a mob boss would a cache of goods, but Thane had seen it bleed through before, and he saw it then: the heaviness of Shepard’s shoulders. It was his job to ease this, and yet, here they were.

_“Thane doesn’t know how to be a partner_ ,” Irikah had said once, lowly, to the flickering image of her sister, while Thane hovered silently outside the room. He wanted to think he could change, that he had learned from his mistakes with Irikah, but perhaps she was still right—perhaps he still had no idea how to support another, besides offering his talent at killing.

“So what? Were they being racist, was that it? That might get C-sec off our backs; they hate dealing with that kind of thing.”

Thane hesitated just long enough that Shepard didn’t believe him when he tried to go along with that idea.

“Yes, they spoke poorly of the hanar. Most drell do not take kindly to it, given what they’ve done for us.”

“Right.” Shepard took in a quick breath and worked her jaw for just a moment, studying the table as if contemplating whether a well-placed biotic punch could get her out of this situation. “So, any other lies you want to try out before we get to the truth?” Thane winced, but he knew most humans were not adept enough at reading a drell’s subtler expressions to catch it. Shepard had spent enough time with him that it was possible, he supposed.

“I’m sorry.”

“You said that. Now you have two minutes to tell me what they actually _said_ , Thane. Forget about Miranda and Cerberus and C-sec. You owe me the truth.”

She was right. After everything…if Amondi demanded the truth of him, he had to give it; there was no other choice.

“They spoke about you,” he said, and this time, the quiet of his voice was intentional.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“So they disagree with me.” She let out a quiet huff through her nose, seeming to relax at the triviality of the truth. “People are always going to disagree with me. Sometimes they disagree a _lot_. With my methods, or my allies, or whatever else they’re taking issue with now. If you take all that personally, you’re going to have a lot of problems.”

“It wasn’t that they disapproved,” he muttered.

“What, then?” He could tell her thin patience was starting to tear, and he knew he had pushed this as far as she would let him. She wanted a definitive answer.

“It was…vulgar.”

“What did they say?” She learned forward, and Thane gave a quick, short shake of his head.

“I would not repeat it, unless you need me to. There were many things. And I…I suppose I lost my temper.”

“Miranda thinks _I’m_ the one making things personal.” Shepard shook her head. “Jesus, Thane. Was it that bad?”

His jaw tightened, and he remembered with furious clarity the way the two humans had spoken of Shepard, as if she were a _thing_ to be _conquered_ , as if they had a _right_. Their words seemed to echo sentiments spat through bloodied teeth by Stiv Kay, words that would be etched in Thane’s mind no matter how many years crawled by, but he thought he would have felt much the same even if they had not tapped that particular memory vein.

Shepard took this reaction as an answer, perhaps sensing that Thane was descending into memory, and straightened up again.

“I’m pulling strings to get you out of here,” she said. “We can’t make a habit of this. It’s going to start raising eyebrows. Which means that no matter what some assholes say about me— _whatever_ they say—you have to let it go. That’s an order. You hear me, Thane?” When she asked him, it was the voice of Commander Shepard, pride of the Alliance N7, first human Spectre, and there was no room for disagreement, even for a valued member of her inner circle—even for one such as he.

“Yes, commander.”

Shepard accepted this, and left the room to speak with C-sec. It gave Thane several more minutes of silence, with Agent Lawson waiting around outside, to contemplate the childishness of his actions, before someone came to open the handcuffs. Shepard signed off on his release, paid the bail, and escorted him out.

“Don’t do that again,” she said, and Thane bowed his head.

“Yes, Shepard.” The commander let out a gust of a sigh and looked over at Thane, who fought the urge to shuffle his feet.

“Now let’s get out of here,” she said. “I hate shore leave.”

**Author's Note:**

> [On tumblr](https://imakemywings.tumblr.com/post/639157949587177472/sticks-and-stones) | [On Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/1964116)
> 
> If you liked this, you might also like...
> 
> \- [Yield](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25345552) by Brooksey  
> \- [Ante Meridiem](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25345552>Yield</a>%20by%20brooksey%0A>%20<a%20href=) by astraielle


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